Talk You Down
by TheXGrayXLady
Summary: Even as the words left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. Of course, even in their world, it was all but impossible to turn back time.  Kind of a songfic based on Talk You Down by The Script


**Okay. Guess what today is? No really. Guess. Alrighty then. Today, Sky Heart turns one year old. And I thought that in celebration of this special day I'd mess about with my favorite couple. No really. It's for a contest and between procrastination and studying for my non AP related finals I got it done hideously close to the deadline, which is close enough to the anniversary so I figured I'd put this up as both an entry and a version of readers birthday cake. I feel like this isn't particularly good and Chase feels really OOC, but still I'm proud of it. I'd like to thank blueheron93 for giving me the little added push to use a plot bunny that got free of the bunch and was running amok in my brain. **

**Disclaimer: This is base on the song "Talk You Down" by The Script. I've listened to it so many times over the last couple months that it's made me tired of it. Me. Tired of The Script. Anywho, awesome song. Definetely worth a listen or a trip to Metrolyrics. I don't own it. Nor do I own Xiaolin Showdown. **

_**Talk You down**_

Even as the words left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. Of course, even in their world, it was all but impossible to turn back time. It was all he could do to stare dumbfounded as she said, "Well, if I'm that useless, then I suppose there's no point in me staying here." Her tone stung more than the words. It was like ice, calm, final, unyielding.

He was used to the Witch's rage, but not this. They had weathered countless screaming matches before this. Ironically, he found himself speechless now. He almost spoke as she turned to go to her room, but his pride prevented him from begging her to reconsider. He wanted to so much, but couldn't bring himself to plead.

The sorcerer couldn't find his voice again until she walked by, suitcase in hand. That's how he knew she was serious about this. When she betrayed him before, she left her things behind. Now, she didn't plan to come back. "Wuya come on. Just think about this. What do you think you're going to do? Run to Jack?"

She didn't respond, didn't even look at him, just waved her hand and vanished in a puff of smoke. Silent and stubborn as the stone she commanded. For a moment, he was absolutely motionless, and then he rushed to the place where she disappeared.

As all magic leaves a trace, teleportation spells were notoriously easy to track. Although any hope he had died when he saw where she went. London. There was only one person she could go to there. Circe was one of the few friends the witch had. The enchantress wasn't exactly fond of him though.

It wasn't worth risking being turned into a pig, so instead of following her, he waked away. He wanted to follow, but too proud to risk humiliation.

He was sure he had something to do around the lair. Potions to work on, plans for global domination, training, some sort of dusting, maybe laundry. Anything to distract him. Something stupid and physical. Minion work. But before that, there were other matters to attend to.

He knew for a fact that one of his cats kept a pack of cigarettes in his room. He quit decades ago, but he needed something to take the edge off. Just for tonight. He would have to remember to commend the Spaniard for disobeying his direct orders.

The laundry needed the most attention. It'd been a while since he'd done it himself. Usually he just gave it to one of the cats and told them to handle it. Now, he needed something to do. Something mindless, repetitive, normal.

He coughed a bit as he threw a dark coat into the washing machine, followed by a few pairs of white socks. Sock, pants, shirts, soap, all swirled in the machine as he paced about the small, now smoke filled laundry room. None of it really captured his interest though.

_How could she just walk out on _me? _On _me! he thought as the washer pinged, letting him know that the load was done. He tossed the clothing into the dryer and started the process again.

Socks, pants, shirts, soap, all thrown in. He was about to include a coat to the mix, but there was a strange weight in one of the pockets. He reached into the pocket and pulled out a rectangular bright green stone locket on a gold chain. He'd been meaning to give it to her, but never got around to it. Perhaps because of the specific reason he picked it out. That specific shade of green reminded him of her powers, but she had a certain level of resentment about that.

He turned it over and over in his hand and ignoring the pile of socks that demanded attention until he had all but memorized the contours of the jade locket. His fingers brushed against the clasp and with a faint click, the locket popped open. He remembered the day the picture was taken. They decided to make an attempt at a normal date. They went out for dinner and a movie and somehow wound up in a photo booth. The four star ratings of both the movie and restaurant did not live up to their name and the expressions on their faces said that they would rather be anywhere but in the photo booth. However, the matching scowls contrasted their smiling eyes.

In spite of how horrid the movie and the food were, and even though, through some mad idea, they were in a photo booth that smelled of stale beer and pot, they somehow managed to enjoy themselves. All factors together, they should have been miserable, but they were miserable together, and at that moment, that was that mattered. Just because they were there together, they were happy.

Their relationship wasn't always an easy one, but despite the constant undermining and scheming that came with the evil territory, they respected and cared for each other. At least, they had until an hour ago. He liked how even without powers, she was still a formidable opponent, and how she was more than capable of taking evil into her own hands.

He pulled the coat on and walked out of the room, extinguishing his cigarette on the wall and shoving the necklace into his pocket. He couldn't very well have it getting out that Wuya had walked out on him. It was a matter of pride. And the increasingly dominant bit at the back of his head screaming at him to go after her because he wanted her back didn't hurt the situation.

One quick teleportation spell later, and he was standing in a park in London. It was raining, but even without the inclement weather, it would have been difficult enough to figure out where he was supposed to go. He had only a rough idea idea where Circe lived, it was dark, and he was unfamiliar with modern London to begin with.

It didn't matter though. As much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, this wasn't a matter of pride or reason. It would have been reasonable to wait until it was a reasonable hour here. It would have been reasonable to wait until they had both cooled off. Hell, it would have been reasonable to just let her go. He couldn't do that. Not yet.

He darted through a back alley, by now thoroughly soaked by water sloughing off the buildings in the upscale district. He had to admit, for a whiny pain in the ass Circe had taste. The indignity of it all only served to strengthen his resolve. He had to make things right. If that meant he had to beg, then so be it.

He skidded around a corner and onto the correct street. It was quiet and dark save for the constant slosh of rain, the streetlights, and a bright glare in an upstairs window of number thirteen. It was as good a place to start as any. In two loping strides, he covered the distance between the alleyway and number thirteen. He would have to guess at the call box number, but given what he knew about the homeowner, it was either seven or thirteen. The lit flat was too high up to be seven.

"Wuya, I know you're mad, but just hear me out. I need to talk to you," he said, pressing the call button and running a hand through his sopping wet hair. "Please." His voice tripped over the last word, unused to pleading. There was no reply from the flat. It had to be the right one though. He couldn't be wrong. Not about something like this.

Cold rain dripped down from the sheltering overhang as he paced small porch, unable to accept that he guessed wrong. This was why he rarely guessed. Perfect certainty was the only way to ensure success in a venture. Just as he was about to try another button when the building's door slip open.

"Wuya, I…" For a moment, pride and love hung in perfect equilibrium in his mind, but the declaration of love and regret died on his tongue when he saw who was in the doorframe. He was fully prepared to beg Wuya. Circe, no. He refused stoop so low. "Never want to see you back at my home again."

In retrospect, this brought up the one aspect of his plan that he didn't account for. The potential that the flat owner would answer the door. "Tell my former consort she is no longer welcome in my lair. If she's left anything behind, I'll send it along in a few days." The ice in his voice conveying that this was his final opinion on the matter. With that, he turned on his toe and strode off down the rain soaked street.

He wanted to turn around, hope for another outcome, but the fact remained that he couldn't. The moment was broken. His pride wouldn't let him admit he was wrong, risk potential indignity, and plead with her to come back.

As he stuck his hands in his pockets, he felt the outline of the locket. Slowly, he drew it out, the green stone flashing in the streetlights. It was open and for a moment, he stared at the two of them. Happily unhappy. A regretful smile played at the edges of his mouth and he began to turn around again, but that thought soon vanished and he tossed the locket into nearest rubbish bin.

As he walked off, he didn't look back. Couldn't look back. Any rethinking of his course would shatter it. And he couldn't do that. Not now. Not when his pride was all he had left.

**Okay. It feels good to get this over with. I've worked at it and even if it's horrid I'd love to hear you opinion be it good, bad, or indifferent. I have birthday cake for reviewers and as an appology to anyone who is displeased by the amazingly OOC portrayals in this fic. **


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